Harry Potter and the Triwizard Tournament
by DeadlyColumbine
Summary: Sequel To A New Arrival - Please read it first before reading this! Harry and Krystal return to Hogwarts for an even more dangerous year than the last. How will Harry cope with being thrusted into the Triwizard Tournament and his confusing dreams?
1. The Riddle House

**So, here we go with re-writing TWT.  
>Oh. My. God. Where do I BEGIN to explain my reasons of wanting to re-write it? The last thing I wrote was an utter piece of shit, and I'm glad I'm able to re-write this! :D<br>Well, let's begin to point out the obvious flaws of number four...*uurgh*  
>1. Short chapters, shit writing.<br>2. Messy chapters that OBVIOUSLY had no point  
>3. Lucius had mood swings; he was obviously a pervert and <strong>_**Christ**_** - since when is he nice?  
>4. Krystal was obviously a bit of a Mary-Sue in this one...as was she in the CoS.<br>5. JESUS CHRIST! READING MINDS? SPECIAL ENCHANTIX POWERS? Nu-uh! Krystal is going to be NORMAL! She's still part-fairy but no Enchantix powers!  
>6. This could have been the next My Immortal it was THAT bad.<br>7. Yeah, I'll admit half of the story was improvised.**

OTHER than all that, this story is based off the fourth Harry Potter BOOK, not movie. This one adds a lot more to the story. Plus, if you haven't read "A New Arrival" by me, this won't make ANY sense what-so-ever. So please go read it if you can. I was going to write book three next, but there wasn't much I could add. Apart from Krystal being there, there was nothing to write. I was thinking of writing the series first and then adding the third book when or if I reach book seven. I might not be able to finish the series, but I'm trying my best.

NOTE: There will be times were I will have to quote from the book! I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER (Lucky for him), This chapter is hardly my work – it's only to set the plot/mood/story ect...

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1 – The Riddle House (Quoted from the book, feel free to skip)<br>****  
><strong>The villagers of Little Hangleton still called it the Riddle House, even though it had been many years since the Riddle Family had lived there. It stood on a hill overlooking the village; some of its windows were boarded, tiles missing from the roof, and ivy spreading unchecked over its face

Once a fine looking manor, and easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, the Riddle house was now damp, derelict and unoccupied.

The Little Hangletons ad all agreed that the old house was 'creepy.' Half a century ago, something strange and horrible had happened there, something that the older inhabitants of the village liked to discuss when topics for gossip were scarce. The story had been picked over so many times, and had been quite embroidered in so many places, that nobody was sure what the truth was anymore.

Every version of the story, however, started in the same place: fifty years before, at daybreak on a fine summer's morning, when the Riddle house had still been well kept and impressive, and a maid had entered the drawing room to find all three Riddles dead.

The maid had run screaming down the hill into the village, and roused as many people as she could.

"Lying there with their eyes wide open! Cold as ice! Still in their dinner things!"

The police were summoned, and the whole of Little Hangleton had seethed with shocked curiosity and ill-disguised excitement.

Nobody wasted their breath pretending to feel very sad about the Riddles, for they had been most unpopular. Elderly Mr and Mrs Riddle had been rich, snobbish and very rude. And their grown-up son Tom and been even more so. All the villages cared about was the identity of their murdered – plainly, three apparently healthy people do not drop down dead of natural causes on the same night.

The Hanged Man – the village pub – the village did a roaring trade that night; the whole village had turned out to discuss the murders.

They were rewarded for leaving their firesides when the Riddle's cook arrived dramatically in their midst, and announced to the suddenly silent pub that a man called Frank  
>had been arrested.<p>

"Frank!" cried several people. "Never!"

Frank Bryce was the Riddle's gardener.

He lived alone in a run-down cottage in the Riddle's grounds. Frank had come back from the war with a very stiff leg and a dislike for crowds and loud noises and had been working for the Riddle's ever since.

There was a rush to buy the cook drinks and hear more details.

"Always thought it was odd," she told the eagerly listening villagers, after her fourth sherry.

"Unfriendly, like. I'm sure if I've offered him a cuppa once, I've offered it a hundred times. Never wanted to mix, he didn't."

"Well, come now," said a woman at the bar "he had a hard war, Frank, he likes the quiet life. That's no reason to-"

"Who else had a key to the back door, then?" barked the cook. "There's been a spare key hanging in the gardener's cottage as far as I can remember! Nobody forced the door open last night! No broken windows! All Frank had to do was creep up to the big house while we was all sleeping..."

The villagers exchanged dark looks.

"I always thought he had a nasty looks about him, right enough." Grunted a man at the bar.

"War turned him funny, if you ask me." Said the landlord.

"Told you I wouldn't like to get on the wrong side of Frank, didn't I, Dot?" said an excited woman in the corner.

"Horrible temper." Said Dot, nodding fervently. "I remember when he was a kid..."

By the following morning, hardly anyone of Little Hangleton doubted that Frank had killed the Riddle's.

But over in the neighbouring town of Great Hangleton, in the dark and dingy police station, Frank was stubbornly repeating over and over that he was innocent, and that the only person he had seen near the Riddle's house on the day of their deaths had been a teenage boy, a stranger, dark-haired and pale. Nobody in the village had ever seen such a boy and the police were quite sure that Frank had invented him.

Then, just when things were looking very serious for Frank, the report on the Riddle's bodies had changed everything.

The police had read an even odder report. A team of doctors had examined the bodies, and had concluded that none of the Riddle's had been stabbed, poisoned, shot, suffocated, strangled or (as far as they could tell) harmed at all.

In fact, as the report continued, in a tone of unmistakable bewilderment, the Riddle's all appeared to be in perfect health – apart from the fact that they were all dead. The doctors did note (however determined to find something wrong with their bodies) that they all had a look of terror on their faces – but as the frustrated police said, whoever heard of three people being frightened to death?

As there was no proof that the Riddle's had been murdered at all, they had been forced to let Frank go. The Riddle's were buried in the Little Hangleton churchyard and their remained objects of curiosity for a while.

To everyone's surprise, and amidst a cloud of suspicion, Frank Bryce had returned to his cottage in the grounds of the Riddle House.

"S'far as I'm concerned, he killed them, and I don't care what the police say." Said Dot in The Hanged Man. "And if he had any decency, he'd leave here, knowing as how we all know he did it."

But Frank did not leave. He stayed to tend the garden for the next family who lived in the riddle house, and then the next – for neither family stayed long.

Perhaps it was partly because of Frank that each new owner said there was a nasty feeling about the place, which, in the absence of inhabitants, started to fall into disrepair.

* * *

><p>The wealthy man who owned the Riddle House these days neither lived there nor put it to any use; they said in the village that he kept it for "tax reasons," though nobody was very clear what these might be. The wealthy owner continued to pay Frank to do the gardening, however. Frank was nearing his seventy-seventh birthday now, very deaf, his bad leg stiffer than ever, but could be seen pottering around the flowerbeds in fine weather, even though the weeds were staring to creep up on him.<p>

Weeds were not the only thing Frank had to contend with, either.

Boys from the village made a habit of throwing stones through the windows of the Riddle House. They rode their bicycles over the lawns Frank worked so hard to keep smooth. Once or twice, they broke into the house for a dare. They knew that old Frank was devoted to the house and grounds, and it amused them to see him limping across the grounds brandishing his stick and yelling croakily at them. Frank, on his part, believed that the boys tormented him because they, like their parents and grandparents, thought him a murderer.

So Frank awoke one night in August, and saw something very odd up in the old house, he merely assumed that the boys had gone one step further in their attempt to punish him.

It was Frank's bad leg that had woke him; it was paining him worse than ever in his old age. He got up, and limped downstairs towards the kitchen with the idea of re-filling his hot-water bottle to ease the stiffness in his knee.

Standing at the sink, filling the kettle, he looked up at the Riddle House and saw light glimmering in its upper windows. Frank new at once what was going on. The boys had broken into the house and, judging by the flickering quality of the light, they had started a fire.

Frank had no telephone, and in any case, he deeply mistrusted the police ever since they had taken him in questioning about the Riddle's deaths. He put down the kettle at once, hurried back upstairs as fast as his bad leg would allow, and was soon back in the kitchen, fully dressed and removing a rusty old key from its hook by the door.  
>He picked up his walking stick which was propped against the wall, and set off into the night.<p>

The front door of the Riddle house bore no sign of being forced, and nor did any of the windows. Frank limped around to the back of the house until he reached a door almost completely hidden by ivy, took out the old key, put it into the lock and opened the door noiselessly.

He had led himself down the cavernous kitchen. Frank had not entered it for many years; nevertheless, although it was dark, he remembered where the door into the hall was, and he had groped his towards it, his nostrils filled with the smell of decay, ears pricking for the sounds of footsteps or voices overhead. He reached the hall, which was a little lighter owing to the large mullioned windows, either side of the front door and had started to climb the stairs, blessing the dust which lay thick upon the stone, because it muffled the sound of his steps and stick.

On the landing, Frank turned right, and saw at once where the intruders were: at the very end of the passage a door stood ajar, and a flickering light shone through the gap, casting a long sliver of gold across the black floor. Frank edged across closer and closer, grasping his walking stick firmly.

Several feet from the entrance, he was able to see a narrow slice of the room beyond.

The fire, he now saw, was lit in the grate. This surprised him. He stopped moving and listened intently, for a man's voice spoke within the room; it sounded timid and fearful.

"There is a little more in the bottle, My Lord, if you are still hungry."

"Later." Said a second voice. This, too, belonged to a man, but it was strangely high-pitched, and cold as a sudden blast of icy wind. Something about that voice made the sparse hairs of the back of Frank's neck stand up.

"Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail."

Frank turned his right ear closer to the door, the better to hear. There came the chink of a bottle being set down on a table, and the dull scraping noise of a heavy chair being dragged across the floor. Frank caught the glimpse of a small man, his back to the door, pushing the chair into place.

He was wearing a long black cloak, and there was a bold patch on the top of his head. Then he disappeared from sight again.

"Where is Nagini?" Said the cold voice.

"I-I don't know, my Lord." Said the first voice nervously. "She set out to explore the house, I think..."

"You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail." Said the second voice. "I will need feeding in the night. The journey has tired me greatly."  
>Brow furrowed, Frank inclined his good ear still closer to the door, listening very hard. There was a pause, and then the man names Wormtail spoke again.<p>

"My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to be staying here?"

"A week." Said the cold voice. "Perhaps longer. The place is moderately comfortable, and the plan cannot proceed yet. It would be foolish to act before the Quidditch World Cup is over."

Frank inserted a gnarled finger into his ear and rotated it. Owing, no doubt, to a build-up of earwax, he had heard the word "Quidditch" which was not a word at all.

"The-the Quidditch World Cup, my lord?" said Wormtail?

(Frank dug his finger still more vigorously into his ear.)

"Forgive me, but – I do not understand – why should we wait until the World Cup is over?"

"Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are pouring into the country from all over the world, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity, checking and double-checking identities. They will be obsessed with security, lest the Muggle notice anything. So we wait."

Frank stopped trying to clear his ear out. He had distinctly heard the words 'Ministry of Magic,' 'Wizards' and 'Muggles.'

Plainly, each of these expressions meant something secret, and Frank could only think of teo people who would speak in code – spies and criminals. Frank tightened his grip on his walking stick once more, and listened more closely still.

"Your Lordship is determined then?" Wormtail said quietly.

"Certainly I am determined, Wormtail.' There was a note of menace in the cold voice now.

A slight pause followed – and then Wormtail spoke, the words tumbling from him in a rush, as though forcing himself to say this before he lost his nerve.

"It could be done without Harry Potter, my Lord."

Another pause, more protracted, and then -

"Without Harry Potter?" breathed the second voice softly. "I see..."

"My Lord, I do not say this out of concern for the boy!" said Wormtail, his voice rising squeakily. "The boy is nothing to me – nothing at all! It is merely that if we were to use another witch or wizard –any wizard – the thing could be done so much more quickly! If you allowed me to leave you for a short while – you know that I can disguise myself most effectively – I could be back here in as little as two days with a suitable person - "

"I could use another wizard," said the second voice softly. "That is true..."

"My Lord, it makes sense," said Wormtail, sounding thoroughly relieved now. "Laying hands on Harry Potter would be so difficult; he is so well protected -"

"And so you volunteer to go and fetch me a substitute? I wonder...perhaps the task of nursing has become wearisome for you, Wormtail? Could this suggestion of abandoning the plan be nothing more than attempt to desert me?"

"My Lord, I-I have no wish to leave you, none at all -"

"Do not lie to me!" hissed the second voice. "I can always tell, Wormtail! You are regretting that you ever returned to me. I revolt you. I see you flinch when you look at me, feel you shudder when you touch me..."

"No! My devotion to your Lordship-"

"Your devotion is nothing more than cowardice. You would not be here if you had anywhere else to go. How am I to survive without you, when I need feeding every few hours? Who is to milk Nagini?"

"But you seem so much stronger, my Lord-"

"Liar," breathed the second voice. "I am no stronger, and a few days alone would be enough to rob me of the little health I have regained under your clumsy care.  
><em>Silence!"<br>_  
>Wormtail, who had been spluttering incoherently, fell silent at once.<p>

For a few seconds, Frank could hear nothing but the fire crackling. Then the second man spoke once more, in a whisper that was almost a hiss.

"I have my reasons for using the boy, as I have already explained to you, and I will use no other. I have waited for thirteen years. A few more months will make no difference. As for the protection surrounding the boy, I believe my plan will be effective. All that is needed is a little courage from you Wormtail – courage you will find, unless you wish to feel the full extent of Lord Voldemort's wrath..."

"My Lord, I must speak!" said Wormtail, panic is his voice now. "All through our journey I have gone over the plan in my head – my Lord, Bertha Jorkins's disappearance will not go unnoticed for long, and if we proceed, if I curse - "  
><em><br>"If?" _whispered the second voice. "_If? _If you follow the plan, Wormtail, the Ministry need never know that anyone else has wish that I could do it myself, but in the present condition...come, Wormtail, one more obstacle removed and our path to Harry Potter is clear. I am not asking you to do it alone. By that time, my _faithful _servant will have rejoined us..."

"_I _am a faithful servant," said Wormtail, merest trace of sullenness in his voice.

"Wormtail, I need someone with brains, someone whose loyalty has never wavered, and you, unfortunately, fulfil either requirement."

"I found you," said Wormtail, and there was definitely a sulky edge to his voice now. "I was the one who found you. I bought you Bertha Jorkins."

"That is true," said the second voice again, sounding amused. "A stroke of brilliance I would not have been possible from you, Wormtail – though, if truth be told, you were not aware how useful she would be when you caught her, were you?"

"I – I thought she might be useful, my Lord– "

"Liar," said the second voice again, the cruel amusement more pronounced than ever. "However, I do not deny that her information was invaluable. Without it, I could never have formed our plan, and for that, you will have your reward, Wormtail. I will allow you to perform an essential task for me; one that man of my follower would give their rights hands to perform..."

"R-really, my Lord? What..?" Wormtail sounded terrified again.

"Ah, Wormtail, you don't want me to spoil the surprise? Your part will come at the very end...But I promise you, you will have the honour of being just as useful as Bertha Jorkins."

You...You..." Wormtail's voice suddenly hoarse, as though his throat had gone very dry. "You...are going...to kill me, too?"

"Wormtail, Wormtail," said the cold voice silkily, "why would I kill you? I killed Bertha Jorkins because I had to. She was fit for nothing after my questioning, quite useless.  
>In any case, awkward questions would have been asked if she had gone back to the Ministry with the news that she had met you on her holidays. Wizards who are supposed to be dead would do well not to into Ministry of Magic witches at sideways inns..."<br>Wormtail muttered something so quietly that Frank could not hear it, but it made the second man laugh – an entirely mirthless laugh, cold as his speech.

"_We could have modified her memory? _But memory charms can be broken by powerful wizard, as I proved when I questioned her. It would be an insult to her memory not to use the information I collected from her, Wormtail."

Out in the corridor, Frank suddenly became aware that the hand he was gripping his walking stick was slippery with sweat. The man with the cold voice had killed a woman. He wasn't talking about it with any sort of remorse – with _amusement. _He was dangerous, a madman, even. And he was planning more murders – This boy, Harry  
>Potter, whoever he was, was in danger!<p>

Frank knew what he must do. Now, if ever, was the time to go straight to the police. He would creep out of the old house and go straight down into the village to use the telephone box.

But the cold voice was speaking again, and Frank froze on the spot – listening with all his might.

"One more curse… my faithful servant at Hogwarts… Harry Potter is as good as mine. Be quiet, I think I hear Nagini…"

And the second man's voice changed. He started making noises Frank had never heard before; he was hissing and spitting without drawing breath. Frank thought he might be having some sort of fit or seizure.

And then Frank heard movement behind him in the dark passageway. He turned to look behind him, and found himself paralysed with fright.

Something was slithering towards him in the long dark corridor floor, and as it drew nearer to the sliver of firelight, he realised with a thrill of terror that it was a gigantic snake, at least twelve foot long. Horrified, Frank stared at as it's undulating body cut a wide, curving track, through the thick dust on the floor, coming closer and closer – what was he to do?

The only means of escape was into the room where the two men sat plotting murder, yet if he stayed where he was the snake would surely not be able to resist biting him…

But before he had to make his decision, the snake was level with him, and then, incredibly, miraculously, it was passing; it was following the spitting and hissing noises made by the cold voice before.

Then it suddenly hit him…._this man could talk to snakes!  
><em>  
>"Nagini has some interesting news, Wormtail." The cold voice beyond the door said.<p>

"I-indeed, my lord?" said Wormtail.

"Indeed, yes," said the voice. "According to Nagini, there is an old Muggle standing outside this door listening to every word we say."

Frank didn't have a chance to hide himself. There were footsteps, and then the door of the room was flung wide open.

A short, balding man with greying hair, a pointed noise and small, watery eyes stood before Frank.

"Invite him in, Wormtail, where are your manners?"

The cold voice was coming from the ancient armchair before the fire, but Frank didn't see the speaker. The snake, on the other hand, was curled up on the rotting old hearth rug, like some kind of pet dog.

"You heard everything, Muggle?" said the high cold voice.

"What's that you're calling me?" Frank said defiantly.

"I am calling you a Muggle," said the cold voice. "It means that you are not a wizard."

"I don't know what you mean by wizard!" said Frank, his voice growing steadier. "All I know is I've heard enough to interest the police tonight. You've done murder and you're planning more! And I'll tell you this too," he added on sudden inspiration. "my wife knows I'm up here and if I don't come back-!"

"You have no wife. You told no one you were coming here." Said the cold voice. "Do not lie to Lord Voldemort, for he knows…He always knows…"

"Is that right?" Frank said aggressively. "Lord, is it? I don't see much of your manners, _My Lord, _turn around and face me like a man, why don't you?"

"I am not a man, Muggle…however, why not? Wormtail. Turn me around."

Wormtail let out a whimper.

"You heard me, Wormtail…"

And the suddenly, after a few seconds of heaving from Wormtail, the chair was facing the old man.

Frank let out some kind of silent scream until a wave of Lord Voldemort's wand with a flash of green light, he was dead.

Two hundred miles away, the boy named Harry Potter woke with a start.

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><p><strong>You heard me - I do not own Harry Potter! XD<strong>


	2. A Letter For Sirius

********

****Chapter 2 – A Letter For Sirius****

Harry looked hopelessly around his room as he massaged his forehead. For the first time in three years, he had woken up with his scar burning and searing with pain. The last time that had happened to him was when Voldemort was at Hogwarts – Harry's School. There was still a fortnight to go before he and his friends went back to Hogwarts, and his eyes paused over the birthday cards his friends had sent him at the end of July. What would they say if he wrote to them and told them his scar was hurting?

At once, Hermione Granger's voice filled in his head, shrill and panicky.  
><em><br>"You scar hurt? Harry, that's really serious! Write to Professor Dumbledore!"  
><em>  
>Harry sighed and looked up; Wherever Dumbledore was, he was sure Hedwig would be able to find him. Harry's owl had never failed to deliver a letter before, even without and address.<p>

Harry tried to think of something to write to Professor Dumbledore. He tried over and over again to think of something to not worry the man, or something that sounded stupid and childish.

He needed someone like a parent. Someone who would listen without broadcasting his problems to the world.

He almost slapped himself as it took him to long to remember that he _did _have someone like that.  
>Sirius.<p>

Harry leapt up off his bed and hurried across his room to his desk, pulled a spare piece of parchment towards him and loaded up his quill with ink and began to write _Dear Sirius, _then paused, wondering how to best phrase his situation, still slightly cursing himself for only remembering Sirius now. But then again, it wasn't so surprising. He had only found out Sirius was his Godfather two months ago.

Harry suddenly felt his blood boil as to why he had only found Sirius till then. Wormtail – the traitor. He had framed Sirius for the murder of thirteen Muggles, and he had forced the man to flee for his life.

No one had believed Sirius was innocent due to his reckless actions and attempts to prove to everyone that Peter Pettigrew was alive. He had come into Harry's dormitory armed with a knife in attempt to murder him, also, transformed into his animagus form, tried to attack Pettigrew – the result in being his friend, Krystal, ankle being broken.

Only till two months ago did Sirius's story get out and prove he was innocent.

Nonetheless, even though Harry couldn't physically be with Sirius, he had helped him out. The Dursley's now let him keep all of his school things inside his bedroom, which had never happened before. Maybe it was because Harry had told them he had a dangerous murderer for a Godfather.

Though he had all his belongings safely with him, he had not trusted the Dursley's would allow him to keep his mail private, hence why he tucked away all of his letters from his friends in the highly useful floorboard under the bed. Sirius's letters seemed cheerful, and had always reminded him to call on Sirius if he needed him. Well, he needed to now, all right.

Harry's lamp was growing dimmer as the sun steadily rose, and he could also hear sounds of movement in his relative's bedrooms. Harry cleared his desk of old parchment and read out his letter to Sirius to himself to make sure it made sense, and also was not full of panic and anxiety.

_Dear Sirius,  
>Thanks for your last letter, that bird was enormous! It could hardly get through my window.<br>Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going too well .My aunt found him smuggling more food into his room yesterday.  
>I'm alright, mainly because the Dursley's are terrified you might turn up and turn them into bats if I ask you to. Krystal's ok, though I don't think she's quite forgiven you for breaking her ankle! She's all healed now. I haven't heard much from her, though she says she's staying at some Muggle support place in London for children who have no families. I'd rather it there than here!<br>Though, a weird thing happened to me this morning. I woke up with my scar hurting. The last time it hurt was when Voldemort was at Hogwarts. You don't think he's getting stronger again, do you?  
>I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back. She's off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me.<br>Harry._

Yes, thought Harry, that looked perfectly fine. There was no point putting in the dream. He didn't want to look as though he was scared. He folded up the parchment and tied a thin piece of thread around it into a bow.

He laid the parchment on his desk and headed downstairs to breakfast.  
><em><br>_

* * *

><p>It was just past nine o'clock until a small figure shuffled under the duvet in the tiny orphanage room, due to a constant tapping noise on her window.<p>

The lump in the bed rose, and then suddenly the blankets fell off, revealing a blond girl rubbing her eyes and stretching.

The girl sleepily looked around her small room. She liked it here, in fact, it was better than living off different dodgy hotel rooms like she did the past two years.

Dumbledore had insisted she come here – not for protection or a home, but for research. She was told this was the same orphanage Voldemort went to when he was her age. Although the fact was scary to her, she felt like she could get some real information from being here. The _feel _of the orphanage was scary – But Krystal had always had a soft spot for scary things. She looked over at the jar on her window sill, which contained one large spider.

She grinned at it – it was really her only friend, and also really knew what she got up to while she was here.

Krystal was a witch, a witch who was currently in the middle of attending Hogwarts School. The girl was short, had aqua blue eyes and long, curly blond hair that now almost reached her waist. She was rather sneaky about studying in this little room at an orphanage full of Muggles, but luckily she had Dumbledore put a Muggle-repelling charm on all of her belongings, so she didn't have to worry about hiding anything in her room – well, it wasn't as if anyone came into her room due to the amount of things she had in there, making the charm stronger. At least the people that ran the orphanage didn't bother her. Nor did she have those annoying maids coming in to clean her room.

Krystal didn't socialise much in the orphanage, she kept to herself whilst doing her homework or setting off into Diagon Alley to buy new school things. She was rather free to do whatever she wanted. She was hoping to get a glimpse of Harry Potter, one of her best friends whom she went to School with. She had already spotted Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born witch whom was her first best friend she had made, leave Diagon Alley and was too late to catch up with her, even after she called her name.

Krystal was stuck in the orphanage for two months before she heard from anyone.

Krystal swung her feet out of the bed and went over to the window, where sure enough, an owl awaited her. Krystal immediately recognised the owl as Errol, Ron Weasley's owl, a friend whom was extremely nice but very poor.

_Krystal,  
>I hope your holiday's going alright. I've sent a letter to Harry's Muggle family asking their permission to come over and collect Harry for the Quidditch world cup next week. Hermione's arriving this afternoon, and if you can get here on your own or if you need Dad to come get you, you're free to come over this Sunday, the same day as we've planned Harry to arrive.<br>Please reply as soon as you can – Mum's getting worried about the safety of all of us!  
>Best,<br>Ron  
><em>  
>Krystal smiled and savoured the thought about spending the rest of the holidays with her friends!<p>

And the Quidditch World Cup! Krystal had never been to it before. But by the sound of it, it seemed amazing.

The girl turned the parchment over to its blank side and wrote a quick reply.

_Ron,  
>I'm staying close by to Diagon Alley, so I'll be able to Floo to your house using the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. <em>  
><em>See you Sunday, I can't wait!<br>Krystal._

Krystal folded the parchment and handed it back to Errol.


	3. The Invitation

**Hey everyone. Sorry it's been a while. I've had a horrible year. Hope you enjoy. **

* * *

><p><strong><strong>

**Chapter 3 – The Invitation  
><strong>

Harry arrived into the kitchen that morning with the usual greeting from the Dursley's – no sign was given that he had even entered the room.

He reached across the table for a piece of toast and was just buttering it when the doorbell rang.

Uncle Vernon heaved himself out of his chair and set down the hallway to answer it.

Harry heard talking at the door, and someone laughing, and Uncle Vernon answering curtly.

Then the door closed and the sound of ripping paper came from the hall.

After about a minute, Vernon was back – and he looked livid.

"You," he snapped. "In the living room, now."

Harry got up from his seat, wondering what on earth he was supposed to have done this time, and followed his uncle into the living room. Uncle Vernon closed the door sharply behind him.

"So," Vernon started as Harry sat down. "_so."  
><em>  
>Harry would have dearly loved to have said "so what?" but he didn't think his uncle's mood should be tested right now, especially when he was under a severe strain from lack of food.<p>

"This just arrived." Vernon said, brandishing a piece of paper. "A letter. About you."

Harry's confusion increased. Who would be writing to his relatives about _him? _

Uncle Vernon glared at Harry, and begun to read the letter out loud;

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,  
>We have never been introduced, but I am sure you have heard a great deal from Harry about my son Ron. As Harry might have told you, the final of the Quidditch World cup takes place this Monday night, and my husband Arthur has just managed to get Prime tickets through connections at the Department of Magical Games and Sports. I do hope you allow us to take Harry to the match, as this really is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; Britain hasn't hosted the Cup in thirty years and tickets are extremely hard to come by. We would of course be glad to have Harry stay for the rest of the summer holidays, and to see him safely on the train back to school. It would be best for Harry to send us your answer the normal way, because the Muggle postman has never delivered to our house and I'm not sure he even knows where it is.<br>Hoping to see Harry soon,  
>Yours sincerely,<br>Molly Weasley.  
>PS. I do hope we've put enough stamps on.<em>

Uncle Vernon finished reading, then pulled something out of his breast pocket.

"Look at this," he growled.

He held up the envelope, in which Mrs. Weasley's letter had come, and Harry had to fight down a laugh. Every bit of it was covered in stamps, except for a tiny space in the centre with the Dursley's address in miniscule writing.

"She did put enough stamps on, then," said Harry, trying to sound as if this was a mistake anyone could make. His uncle's eyes flashed.

"The postman noticed. He seemed to think it was funny."

Harry didn't say anything. Other people might not understand why his uncle was making such a big fuss over this, but Harry had lived long enough with the Dursley's to understand they _hated _anything slightly out of the ordinary.

Their worst fear was that anyone would find out that they were connected with people like Mrs. Weasley.

Uncle Vernon was still glaring at Harry, who tried to keep his expression neutral . If he didn't say or do anything stupid, he might be in for the treat of a lifetime. He waited for Uncle Vernon to say something, but he merely continued to glare. So Harry decided to break the silence.

"So – so can I go, then?" he asked meekly.

A slight spasm crossed Uncle Vernon's large purple face. The moustache bristled. Harry thought he knew what was going on behind the moustache; a furious battle as two of Vernon's most fundamental instincts came into conflict. Allowing

Harry to go would make Harry happy, but on the other hand, he would be getting rid of Harry two weeks earlier than planned seemed tempting.

Harry had told the Dursley's about Sirius a few earlier, and conveniently forgotten to tell them he was innocent. The Dursley's were more careful now around Harry.

"Well, all right then, you tell these _Weasley's _that you're to be picked up on Sunday. And tell your godfather, tell him you're going."

"Ok, then." Harry said brightly, happy that the conversation was as long as it lasted.

He turned and walked towards the living-room door, fighting to jump into the air and whoop. He was going…he was going to the Weasley's to watch the Quidditch World Cup!

Outside in the hall he nearly ran into Dudley, who had been lurking behind the door, clearly hoping to hear Harry being told off. He looked shocked at the expression on Harry's face.

"That was an _excellent _breakfast, wasn't it? I feel really full, don't you?"

Laughing at the astonished look on Dudley's face, Harry took the stairs three at a time and hurried into his bedroom.

The first thing he saw that Hedwig was back. She was sitting in her cage, staring at Harry with her enormous amber eyes, clicking her beak in a way that meant she was annoyed at something. Exactly what she was annoyed about became clear almost at once.

"OUCH!" said Harry.

What appeared to be a small, grey, feathery tennis ball had collided with the side of his head. Massaging his head, Harry looked around furiously to see what had hit him, and saw a minute grey owl staring at him, then dropped a note.

"Thanks." Harry said bitterly and watched the tiny owl fly over to Hedwigs cage, and help itself to her water.

Harry ripped the note open and read:

_Harry – DAD GOT THE TICKETS. It's Ireland versus Bulgaria, Monday night. Mum's written a letter to the muggles to ask if you can stay for the rest of the Holidays. Thought I'd send this with Pig, as I don't know how fast Muggle post is.  
>Hermione's arriving this Afternoon and Krystal will be here on Sunday morning.<br>See you on Sunday evening, can't wait!  
>- Ron.<em>

"Calm down!" Harry said, as the small owl flew low over his head, twittering madly with what Harry could only assume was pride at having delivered the letter to the right person. "Come here, I need you to take my answer back!"

Harry seized his eagle feather quill, a scrap piece of parchment and wrote:  
><em><br>"Ron,  
>it's all okay. The muggles say I can go. See you at five o'clock tomorrow. I can't wait!<br>-Harry."_


	4. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes

**I'M BEERRRRKK.  
>So I decided to continue, yay! I've been away due to some life messes, but I'm alright now. Hoping to try and get more of this done before end of year exams in November.<strong>  
><strong>Enjoy it! It's a bit rushed and I didn't have much time to edit it. I cut out some of the unnecessary scenes. Thank you! Please don't forget to leave a review.<strong> 

* * *

><p>Harry spun faster and faster, elbows tucked tightly to his sides, blurred fireplaces flashing past him, until he started to feel sick and closed his eyes. Then, when at last he felt himself slowing down, he threw out his hands and brought himself to a halt in time to prevent himself falling face first out of the Weasley's kitchen fire.<p>

"Did he eat it?" said Fred, excitingly, holding up a hand to help Harry to his feet.

"Yeah, what was that?" Harry asked the twin.

"Ton-Tongue Toffee," said George, "Fred and I have been inventing joke products. We've been trying to find people to test them on all summer. And now we know they work!"

"That's brilliant!" Harry said as the kitchen filled with laughter.

As the laughter died down, Ron broke the silence.

"Oh," Ron pointed out to Harry. "Krystal should be arriving sometime later this evening, around dinner time."

"Oh, good!" Harry said, spirits rising further. "She's coming to the Quidditch World Cup, too?"

"Yep." Ginny said. "It should be good, Ireland versus Bulgaria. The competition should be mental. Two of the best teams competing for the cup."

Ron and George went to sit at the wooden scrubbed table with two red haired people Harry had never seen before in his life. He realised these must be Ron's two eldest brothers; Bill and Charlie.

"How're you doing, Harry?" Said the nearest of the two, holding out his hand for Harry to shake, which Harry did. He noticed his hand was covered in blisters and realised this must be Charlie, the one who worked with Dragons in Romania. Charlie was very similar to the twins, though more muscular and shorter.

Bill stood up and walked around the table to also shake Harry's hand. Harry stared, he couldn't help it – Bill looked _cool._

He was wearing boots made of Dragon hide, and wore a very impressive black leather jacktet. And he also had very long hair which he tied back which left him showing off an earring that was made from a dragon fang.

The introductions were brief as everyone heard another crash, Arthur Weasley had returned from the Dursley's.

"That WASN'T FUNNY, Fred!" Arthur shouted, giving Mrs Weasley competition. "What on earth did you give that muggle boy?"

"Nothing! I didn't give it to him on purpose! It's not my fault he ate it!"

"You knew he was on a diet! You knew he'd eat it!" Mr Weasley roared back. "You wait till your mother hears-!"

"Hears what?" said a stern, female voice. It was Molly Weasley, Ron's mother. "Tell me _what _Arthur?"

"Erm…nothing, dear…you see, just Fred and George…spot of trouble…I've dealt with it…"

"This BETTER not have anything to do with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!" Molly shouted at the twins.

Her expression lightened when she saw Harry standing behind the twins. "Oh, hello, Harry dear."

"Ron," said Ginny. "Why don't we go up to your room and wait for Hermione and Krystal to arrive?"

"Oh," Ron said. "Yeah, okay. C'mon, Harry." Beckoning him to follow him upstairs.

The three of them went, leaving Arthur and Molly to deal with Fred and George.

As Ginny, Ron and Harry climbed the stairs, Harry asked "What's Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?"

"Oh," Ron giggled a bit. "some joke product brand that Fred and George made up, I think it's brilliant. Though, they've been causing some messes for mum to clean up, like exploding tea cups and fake wands. It's made mum do her nut several times."

Harry grinned. They reached Ron's bedroom and the three went in. Ron sat on his bed while Ginny and Harry sat on the ground next to the bed, chatting mindlessly, ignoring the shouting coming from downstairs.

Ron's new owl, Pigwidgeon chirped contently next to the window, watching the sunset.

A knock came on Ron's door.

It was Percy.

"Oh, Hello Harry. Didn't hear you arrive." Percy greeted pleasantly. "The argument's over. You better help with dinner."

The three set downstairs.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, they heard Molly muttering to herself.

"I don't know where I went wrong with those two…" she sighed, chopping some potatoes. She spotted them enter the room.  
>"Ginny, dear, can you set the plates out?" Molly asked. "Knives and forks, you two." Pointing to Ron and Harry.<p>

Ron grabbed a handful of cutlery and gave some to Harry, and headed outside.

By seven o'clock, the table outside was groaning under dishes and dishes of Mrs Weasley's fabulous cooking. The nine Weasley's and Harry sat down at the table, Harry sat between Ginny and Ron.

The conversation started. Conversation varied between Percy's work and the world cup.

Molly leaned over to Harry "The girls are late." She pointed out.

"Krystal said she'd be here by five. She's always late, though." Ginny added fondly. The two of them always got on well.

As conversation kept going until someone arrived, the security sensors spells Molly had placed told them someone had arrived in their fireplace.

"I'll get it!" Molly said, as she rushed inside.

Sure enough, a minute later, two girls holding backpacks arrived into the backyard. Krystal and Hermione had arrived together.

"Hi, everyone." Hermione said. Krystal smiled to the crowd.

"Where've you been?" Harry asked them both as they settled down across from Ron and Harry.

"Oh, Harry," Krystal brought up, "Have you heard from…?"

Harry knew instantly she meant Sirius but gave her a look to shut up. She heeded the warning and said "Yum, treacle tart! My favourite." And helped herself.

Ginny looked suspiciously at the four of them.

By half past eight, Molly ushered them all off to bed. "You'll all have to be up by half past five in the morning, you'll need your rest."

Ginny, Krystal and Hermione headed off to Ginny's room while Ron and Harry headed up to attic.

"Goodnight, girls." Ron and Harry said to the girls.

"Night, lads" Krystal said.

"See you tomorrow." Hermione yawned.

* * *

><p><strong>REVIEWWWWW :D<strong>


	5. The Campsite

**I'm aliiiiiiveeee. Nearly finished high school thank FUCK!  
>I've been working on this for a while, now. Eurgh, how i'll get through the whole book (yet, the whole series) is beyond me! But I am trying.<br>Apologies that this is so similar to the book's chapter...I don't own Harry Potter! All rights and characters (besides Krystal, as she was my creation) go to JK ROWLING!  
><strong>

* * *

><p>Harry disentangled himself from the pile of people that were the Weasleys. They had arrived at what appeared to be a stretch of deserted stretch of misty moor.<p>

In front of the group were a couple of grumpy looking wizards, one of which was holding a large gold watch, and the other holding a long scroll of parchment.

They were dressed as muggles, though pretty inexpertly. Krystal looked at them without a second glance, as did Mr. Weasley. But the others stared, as the two of them had no idea how to "properly" dress as muggles.

"Morning, Basil." said Mr Weasley, handing one of the wizard their portkey.

"Over here, Arthur!" came a raised voice, coming from two tall figures approaching them.

"Amos!" Arthur greeted back, smiling as he strode over to the man and shook the his hand.

Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who

was holding a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand.

"Kids, this is Amos Diggory," said Mr. Weasley. "He works for the Department for the

Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

Cedric Diggory was an extremely handsome boy of around seventeen. He was Captain and

Seeker of the Hufflepuff House Quidditch team at Hogwarts. Harry only remembered him vaguely, and Krystal kept calling him "Pretty-Boy-Diggory."

"Hi," said Cedric, looking around at them all.

Everybody said hi back except Fred and George, who merely nodded. They had

never quite forgiven Cedric for beating their team, Gryffindor, in the first Quidditch match of the

previous year.

Amos Diggory peered good-natured among the lot of kids. "All these yours, Arthur?" He asked excitedly.

"Oh no, only the redheads," said Mr. Weasley, pointing out his children. "This is Hermione,

friend of Ron's - and the blond one there, that's Krystal, another friend -" they all waved at Amos.  
>"And, Harry." Arthur said finally.<p>

"Merlin's beard," said Amos Diggory, his eyes widening. "Harry Potter?"

"Er - yeah," said Harry.

Harry was used to people looking curiously at him when they met him, used to the way their

eyes moved at once to the lightning scar on his forehead, but it always made him feel

uncomfortable.

Hermione and Ginny scowled, they too didn't like the way people fussed over Harry's scar.

"Ced's talked about you, of course," said Amos Diggory. "Told us all about playing against you

last year… I said to him, I said - Ced, that'll be something to tell your grandchildren, that will…

You beat Harry Potter!"

Harry couldn't think of any reply to this, so he remained silent. Fred and George were both

scowling again. Cedric looked slightly embarrassed.

"Harry actually fell off his broom." Piped up Krystal.

"Yeah, I told you, dad!" Cedric said, reddening under the pressure, and feeling the Weasleys judging him.

"Yes, but you didn't fall off, did you?" roared Amos, slapping his son on his back.

"Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman… but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd say

the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need to be a genius

to tell which one's the better flier!"

Everyone scowled.

"What an idiot," Muttered Krystal to Harry. Harry nodded to her in agreement.

"Anyway, Ced and I better head off to our campsite. See you lot at the game." Amos said, waving his large hand at them.

They all waved goodbye to the Diggory's and headed off to their campsite.

They trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their

owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that Harry could hardly be surprised that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance.

A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

"Always the same," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We can't resist showing off when we get

together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us."

They reached their tent.

"Well, we'll all squeeze in. It's a bit cramped, but it'll do. Look, there's one for the girls there too." Arthur pointed out. There was another tent slightly smaller next to them.

Hermione, Ginny and Krystal headed into the second tent to unpack, and Harry headed over to the biggest one to do the same.

Harry bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt his jaw drop. He had walked into what

looked like an old-fashioned, three room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. Oddly

enough, it was furnished in exactly the same sort of style as Mrs. Figg's house: There were

crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.

"Well, it's not for long," said Mr. Weasley, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and

peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. "I borrowed this from Perkins at the

office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago."

The group met outside their tents after twenty minutes.

"Well, you lot can feel free to go for a walk if you'd like. I can start preparing us some food." Arthur said.

Krystal, Hermione, Ron and Harry left to go in a separate group to go see the campsite.  
>Hermione pointed out to them to go collect some water from the water tap before they returned.<p>

"We're doing things the muggle way, now, Ron!" Hermione said to a groaning red-head. "We need to get some water. I think Mr. Weasley forgot."

There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. Harry, Ron, and Hermione

joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.

"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that, the Muggle at

the gate's already getting suspicious –

"I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old wizard stubbornly. "Muggles wear them."

"Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these," said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.

"I'm not putting them on," said old Archie in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze 'round my

privates, thanks."

Hermione was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that she had to duck

out of the queue and only returned when Archie had collected his water and moved away.

Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, they made their way back through the campsite. Here and there, they saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with their families. Oliver Wood, the old captain of Harry's House Quidditch team, who had just left Hogwarts, dragged Harry over to his parents' tent to introduce him, and told him excitedly that he had just been signed to the Puddlemere United reserve team.

The line took forever to end. Finally, they got some water, and headed off towards their campsite again.

Once the group rejoined Arthur at the campfire outside their tents, they were joined by Ludo Bagman, who was offering wagers on the outcome of the game.

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large

amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes. "I've already got Roddy Pontner

betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three

are the strongest I've seen in years - and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel

farm on a weeklong match."

"Oh… go on then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see… a Galleon on Ireland to win?"

"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. "Very well,

very well… any other takers?"

"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like -"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George

quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and

we'll throw in a fake wand."

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!" Ludo shouted at them in amusement.

Arthur invited Ludo to stay and have tea with them. He excitedly agreed.  
>They all laughed, and chatted as Ludo told them all stories on past World Cup Games. Krystal and Harry were getting more and more excited, as were the rest of the group as they were almost all shivering in anticipation.<p>

"Well, well," Ludo finished off, handing arthur back his plate. "I better head off, the game will be starting soon. I've got to run!"

"Indeed!" Arthur said cheerily. "We'll be heading off soon, too."

"Goodbye!" Ludo said, shaking Fred and George's hands.

A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on.

By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinar merchandise. There were luminous rosettes - green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria - which were

squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks,

Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played

their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew,

and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

"Been saving my pocket money all summer for this," Ron told Harry as they and Hermione

strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Though Ron purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker.

The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over Ron's hand, scowling up at the green

rosette above him.

"Wow, look at these!" said Harry, hurrying over to a cart piled high with what looked like brass

binoculars, except that they were covered with all sorts of weird knobs and dials.

"Omnioculars," said the saleswizard eagerly. "You can replay action… slow everything down…

and they flash up a play-by- play breakdown if you need it."

"Wish I hadn't bought this now," said Ron, gesturing at his dancing shamrock hat and gazing

longingly at the Omnioculars.

"Four pairs," said Harry firmly to the wizard.

"No - don't bother," said Ron, going red. He was always touchy about the fact that Harry, who

had inherited a small fortune from his parents, had much more money than he did.

"You won't be getting anything for Christmas," Harry told him, thrusting Omnioculars into his

and Hermione's hands. "For about ten years, mind."

"Fair enough," said Ron, grinning.

"Cheers, Harry!" Krystal beamed.

"Oooh, thanks, Harry," said Hermione. "And I'll get us some programs, look -"

Their money bags considerably lighter, they went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag.

Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold.

And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of them. "Come on, let's go!"

* * *

><p>AN: I'll be skipping the Quidditch match. It's about 4000 words of my time wasted, anyway. I'm sorry for making this extremely similar to the book. I was going to cut it out but decided not to...eh, don't worry, the next chapter should hopefully be more original!<p> 


	6. The Dark Mark

**Hi hi! Here's another chapter, yo!**  
><strong>Again, it's pretty similar in the book, but it adds more story.<strong>  
><strong>Hells yeah I'm on a roll!<strong>  
><strong>Hopefully more chapters coming soon!<strong> 

* * *

><p>"Don't tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley warned the Weasley Twins,as they all made their way slowly down the purple-carpeted stairs.<p>

"Don't worry, Dad," said Fred gleefully, "we've got big plans for this money. We don't want it

confiscated."

The game had been a long, tiring four hours. But in the end, Fred and George's bet had paid off. Ireland won the match, but Krum got the snitch.

Mr. Bagman had paid them over four-hundred galleons in return.

Mr. Weasley looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to decide, upon reflection, that he didn't want to know.

The group were slowly making their way through the crowded campsite, all chatting loudly and gleefully about the match.

"It's so late," Hermione yawned. "I'm usually asleep by now on holidays."

"Hermione," Ron started. "It's only one in the morning. Surely you're not already tired!"

"Yes, Ronald, but by this time I'm usually finishing off homework and getting into bed. I actually study hard over the break!"

"I don't bother. I usually do all my studying on the train back to school." Ron said lazily.

"Shut up, you two." Krystal said as she shivered. "I felt something weird."

The group went quiet.

"Felt what?" Harry asked her, glad for a reason to ignore Ron and Hermione's bickering.

"Like...dark magic or something…" she muttered.

"You're probably just tired, and imagined it." Ron said simply.

"Yeah. Yeah...that's right." Krystal decided.

"Oh I am glad I'm not on duty," muttered Mr. Weasley sleepily, as he entered the tent. "I wouldn't fancy having to go and tell the Irish they've got to stop celebrating."

"Goodnight." Hermione said to the boys.

"Night all." Fred and George called out to the rest of the group.

Harry, who was on a top bunk above Ron, lay staring up at the canvas ceiling of the tent,

watching the glow of an occasional leprechaun lantern flying overhead, and picturing again some of Krum's more spectacular moves. He was itching to get back on his own Firebolt and try out the Wronski Feint… Somehow Oliver Wood had never managed to convey with all his wriggling diagrams what that move was supposed to look like… Harry saw himself in robes that had his name on the back, and imagined the sensation of hearing a hundred-thousand-strong crowd roar,as Ludo Bagman's voice echoed throughout the stadium, "I give you… Potter!" 

Harry had never figured out whether he had dropped off to sleep or not, but soon he was being shaken awake by Arthur, whose face was panic stricken and white in fear.

"Get up! Ron - Harry - come on now, get up, this is urgent!"

Harry sat up quickly and the top of his head hit canvas.

"S' matter?" he said.

Dimly, he could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The

singing had stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of people running. He slipped down from the bunk and reached for his clothes, but Mr. Weasley, who had pulled on his jeans over his own pajamas, said, "No time, Harry - just grab a jacket and get outside - quickly!"

Harry grabbed his jacket and ran outside. There he in the distance that Hermione and Ginny had made a run for it.

Harry looked around, and the scene shocked him. Up ahead he could see tall, shadowed cloaked figured who were walking through the crowd, setting tents on fire and tormenting the running crowd.

"Who are they?!" Krystal screamed as Harry run up to her. "Hermione and Ginny seemed to know who they were, and they just fled, leaving me here."

"We have to run!" Arthur said as he met the group outside the tent. "It's the Death Eaters!"

"The wh-?" They all chorused, but were interrupted.

"RUN."

Ron and Harry started to run, but Krystal stood, rooted to the spot in fear. She saw the Death Eaters raise children into the air and drop them to the ground, injuring or killing them.

She felt a sickening twist in her stomach, and she couldn't take it anymore.

"That's so sick!" She thought. "I'm going to show these Death Eaters what's up."

Pulling out her wand from her jeans she ran forward towards the men.

She ran in between terrified children, and parents and the rushing crowd, the opposite direction of where she was heading.

As she saw one of the Death Eaters spot a girl, black hair with pigtails, crying for her mother, get lifted into the air, Krystal pointed her wand and counter-cursed the spell, and caught the terrified child just in time.

Putting the little girl onto the ground her mother screamed and ran up to her child in gratitude to Krystal.

"Run!" Krystal said to the terrified woman.

The mother nodded and run, holding her child.

"I'll take care of this little twerp!" One of the Death Eaters said to the group. "Stupefy!"

Krystal opened her mouth to begin screaming before the collision of the spell, but it hit her in the chest before she could react.

Krystal's vision went black. 

* * *

><p>How many hours later it was, she didn't know. But she opened her eyes. She expected herself to be lying in the middle of the campsite, but she wasn't.<p>

She was lying in the middle of the forest, deathly quiet and very dark.

"Where...am I?" She said out loud.

Out of nowhere, she heard echoed voices.

"Language, Weasley," said the echoed voice. "Hadn't you better be hurrying

along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?"

Krystal headed along and followed the voice, and then she heard other voices.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said a female voice. Hermione! Krystal thought to herself happily.

"Granger, they're after Muggles," said Malfoy. "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in

midair? Because if you do, hang around… they're moving this way, and it would give us all a

laugh."

"Hermione's a witch," Harry snarled.

There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything

they had heard several people nearby screamed. Malfoy chuckled softly.

"Scare easily, don't they?" he said lazily. "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he

up to - trying to rescue the Muggles?"

Krystal finally spotted the group.  
>Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all standing, facing Draco Malfoy who was lazily leaning against a tree.<p>

Krystal walked forward and interrupted the blond boy she loathed so much.

"Where're your parents?" said Krystal, her temper rising immediately. "Out there wearing masks, are they?"

"Krystal!" Harry said, relieved. "You're alive!"

Krystal walked up to the group and joined them.

Malfoy turned his face to her, still smiling.

"Well… if they were, I wouldn't be likely to tell you, would I, Half-Breed?"

"Oh come on," said Hermione, with a disgusted look at Malfoy, "let's go and find the others."

"Keep that big bushy head down, Granger," sneered Malfoy.

"Come on," Hermione repeated, and she pulled Harry and Ron up the path again, Krystal following suit and Ginny behind her.

"I'll bet you anything his dad is one of that masked lot!" said Ron hotly.

"Well, with any luck, the Ministry will catch him!" said Hermione fervently. "Oh I can't believe

this. Where have the others got to?"

"Fred and George can't have gone that far," said Ron, pulling out his wand, lighting it like

Hermione's, and squinting up the path.

Harry dug in the pockets of his jacket for his own wand - but it wasn't there. The only thing he could find was his Omnioculars.

"Ah, no, I don't believe it… I've lost my wand!"

"You're kidding!"

Ron and Hermione raised their wands high enough to spread the narrow beams of light farther on the ground; Harry looked all around him, but his wand was nowhere to be seen.

"Maybe it's back in the tent," said Krystal suggested.

"Maybe it fell out of your pocket when we were running?" Hermione suggested anxiously.

"Yeah," said Harry, "maybe…"

They followed the dark path deeper into the wood, still keeping an eye out for Fred, George, and Arthur.

They passed a group of goblins who were cackling over a sack of gold that they had undoubtedly won betting on the match, and who seemed quite unperturbed by the trouble at the campsite.

Farther still along the path, they walked into a patch of silvery light, and when they looked through the trees, they saw three tall and beautiful veela standing in a clearing,

surrounded by a gaggle of young wizards, all of whom were talking very loudly.

Ron, Harry and Hermione all sat down on a nearby log. The forest had calmed down, and the sound of running and explosions were over.

Krystal leaned up against a tree and Ginny sat on the ground next to Hermione.

Ron took his small figure of Krum out of his pocket, set it down on the ground, and watched it

walk around.

Like the real Krum, the model was slightly duck-footed and round-shouldered,

much less impressive on his splayed feet than on his broomstick. Harry was listening for noise

from the campsite.

Everything seemed much quieter; perhaps the riot was over.

"I hope the others are okay," said Hermione after a while.

"They'll be fine," said Ron.

"Imagine if your dad catches Lucius Malfoy," said Harry, sitting down next to Ron and watching

the small figure of Krum slouching over the fallen leaves. "He's always said he'd like to get

something on him."

"That'd wipe the smirk off old Draco's face, all right," said Ron.

The group continued to walk down the forest track after sitting.

Before Harry knew it, there was a cloaked figure standing ahead of them in the cleared campsite.

"Who's there?" Harry called out.

"Harry," Hermione whispered. "I think...I think he may be a Death Eater!"

And then, without warning, the silence was rent by a voice unlike any they had heard in the

wood; and it uttered, not a panicked shout, but what sounded like a spell.

"MORSMORDRE!"

And something vast, green, and glittering erupted from the patch of darkness Harry's eyes had

been struggling to penetrate; it flew up over the treetops and into the sky.

"What the -?" gasped Ron as he sprang to his feet again, staring up at the thing that had

appeared.

For a split second, Harry thought it was another leprechaun formation. Then he realized that it

was a colossal skull, comprised of what looked like emerald stars, with a serpent protruding from its mouth like a tongue. As they watched, it rose higher and higher, blazing in a haze of greenish smoke, etched against the black sky like a new constellation.

"It's the Dark Mark, Harry!" Hermione moaned, pulling him as hard as she could.

"You-Know-Who's sign?!" Krystal repeated, panic stricken.

"Guys, we have to run!" Ron said.  
>Suddenly, there were wizards apparating around them. One by one, they all surrounded the group of five, scared children.<p>

Harry whirled around, and in an instant, he registered one fact: Each of these wizards had his

wand out, and every wand was pointing right at Harry, Ron, Krystal, Ginny and Hermione.

Without pausing to think, he yelled, "DUCK!"

"STUPEFY!" roared twenty voices - there was a blinding series of flashes and Harry felt the hair on his head ripple as though a powerful wind had swept the clearing. Raising his head a fraction of an inch he saw jets of fiery red light flying over them from the wizards' wands, crossing one another, bouncing off tree trunks, rebounding into the darkness—

"Stop!" yelled a voice he recognized. "STOP! That's my son!"

Harry's hair stopped blowing about. He raised his head a little higher. The wizard in front of him had lowered his wand. He rolled over and saw Mr. Weasley striding toward them, looking

terrified.

"Kids..." his voice sounded shaky "Are you alright?"

"Out of the way, Arthur," said a cold, curt voice.

It was Mr. Crouch. He and the other Ministry wizards were closing in on them. Harry got to his

feet to face them. Mr. Crouch's face was taut with rage.

"Which of you did it?" he snapped, his sharp eyes darting between them. "Which of you

conjured the Dark Mark?"

"We didn't do that!" said Harry, gesturing up at the skull.

"We didn't do anything!" said Krystal, who was rubbing her elbow.

"What did you want to attack us for?" Ron added, looking scared.

"Do not lie, sir!" shouted Mr. Crouch. His wand was still pointing directly at Ron, and his eyes

were popping - he looked slightly mad. "You have been discovered at the scene of the crime!"

"Where did the Mark come from, you three?" said Mr. Weasley quickly.

"Over there," said Hermione shakily, pointing at the place where they had heard the voice.

"There was someone behind the trees… they shouted words – an incantation -"

"Oh, stood over there, did they?" said Mr. Crouch, turning his popping eyes on Hermione now,

disbelief etched all over his face. "Said an incantation, did they? You seem very well informed

about how that Mark is summoned, missy -"

"Shut up!" Krystal snarled at Crouch. "Do you honestly think we could have conjured that stupid Dark Mark? We're kids!"

"Oh really? And how come you think you're so sure?" Crouch snapped right back.

Suddenly, there came a rustling from the bushes.

"There's something there, in the direction that that girl pointed out!" Said one of the Aurors.

It was a house elf.

Mr. Crouch did not move or speak as Mr. Diggory deposited his elf on the ground at his feet. The other Ministry wizards were all staring at Mr. Crouch. For a few seconds Crouch remained transfixed, his eyes blazing in his white face as he stared down at the house elf. Then he appeared to come to life again.

"This - cannot - be," he said jerkily. "No -"

"oops," said Amos Diggory. "Winky is Crouch's elf, that's a bit embarrassing."

"And you really believe Winky conjured it?" Ron said in disbelief. "She would have needed a wand!"

"Yeah," said Mr. Diggory, "and she had a wand."

"What?" said Mr. Weasley.

"Here, look." Mr. Diggory held up a wand and showed it to Mr. Weasley. "Had it in her hand. So that's clause three of the Code of Wand Use broken, for a start. No non-human creature is

permitted to carry or use a wand."

"I - I - I is not doing it, sir!" Winky gasped. "I is not knowing how, sir!"

"You were found with a wand in your hand!" barked Mr. Diggory, brandishing it in front of her.

And as the wand caught the green light that was filling the clearing from the skull above, Harry

recognized it.

"Hey - that's mine!" he said

Everyone in the clearing looked at him.

"Excuse me?" said Mr. Diggory, incredulously.

"That's my wand!" said Harry. "I dropped it!"

Amos hurridly handed back Harry's wand.

"You have disobeyed me!" Crouch shouted at Winky. "This means clothes!"

"NO!" screamed Winky. "Not clothes! Anything but clothes!"

Arthur pulled the group back.

"Come on, you lot. Let's head back to the tent."

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><p><strong>Please review guys! :)<strong>


	7. Thoughts and Theories

**And back again! ho ho, I'm really on a roll! It's so great to be back...and with no new reivews after two years :O Oh wellll.**  
><strong>I guess this site is kinda dead anyway.<strong>  
><strong>Enjoy, my fellow ghosts!<strong>

**Ps. Yes, I know this is short.**  
><strong>PPs. The next couple of chapters will be cut out, so I can get them straight into Hogwarts.<strong>

**ALSO: Sorry again for such a stupid amount of repitition from the books, but it's kinda important that your minds are refreshed or to those who have not read the HP books (and only watched the movies...newbs) to know the basic storyline!**

* * *

><p>"Dad," said Ron worriedly to Arthur. "Does this mean...it's...Him-?"<p>

The group were walking slowly back to their tent. Harry noticed several tents that were in tatters, or were still smoking from the fires the masked people have conjured.

"Of course it's not Him," said Mr. Weasley impatiently. "We don't know who it was; it looks

like they Disapparated."

"I can't believe they thought it was Winky!" cried Hermione. "An Elf! Conjure the Dark Mark!" she huffed.

"Listen, Hermione," Arthur said, turning to his left to face her. "I believe you, and I understand, but now is not the time to argue. We need to get back to the tent to see if the others are alright."

Bill, Charlie and Fred and George were found in the tent.

"When did you two get here?" Ron asked Bill and Charlie. "I thought you were staying on the other side of the woods?"

"I think it's best we stay together, now." Bill said to Ron.

"We left to find you guys after the riot started." Charlie added.

Bill was sitting at the small kitchen table, holding a bedsheet to his arm, which was bleeding

profusely. Charlie had a large rip in his shirt. Fred and George, looked unhurt, though shaken.

"Did you get them, Dad?" said Bill asked his father. "The person who conjured the Mark?"

"No," said Mr. Weasley, sitting opposite Bill at the kitchen table. "We found Barty Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."

"What?" said Bill and Charlie together. "Harry's wand?" said Fred.

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull thing was?" said Ron impatiently. "It wasn't

hurting anyone… Why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," said Hermione, before anyone else could

answer. "I read about it in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts."

"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," said Mr. Weasley quietly.

"Of course people panicked… it was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again." Bill said darkly.

"I don't get it," said Ron, frowning. "I mean… it's still only a shape in the sky…"

Krystal and Hermione tutted together.

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed,"

said Mr. Weasley. "The terror it inspired… you have no idea, you're too young."

"Ron, you don't get it do you?" Krystal added in sharply. "Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about to find inside…"

Mr. Weasley winced at the thought.

"Everyone's worst fear… the very worst." Arthur added quietly.

"What were You-Know-Who's followers up to, levitating muggle children like that anyway?" Krystal asked Mr. Weasley. "I mean, what's the point?"

"The point?" said Mr. Weasley with a hollow laugh. "Krystal, that's their idea of fun. Half the

Muggle killings back when You-Know-Who was in power were done for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them," he finished disgustedly.

"Listen," Arthur said to the group after a moment's silence. "it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick. We'll get a few more hours sleep and then try and get an early Portkey out of here."

The girls headed out to the tent next door, bading the boys goodnight.

Harry got back into his bunk with his head buzzing. He knew he ought to feel exhausted: It was nearly three in the morning, but he felt wide-awake – wide awake, and worried.

Three days ago - it felt like much longer, but it had only been three days - he had awoken with

his scar burning. And tonight, for the first time in thirteen years, Lord Voldemort's mark had

appeared in the sky. What did these things mean? He thought of the letter he had written to Sirius before leaving Privet Drive. Would Sirius have gotten it yet? When would he reply? Harry lay looking up at the canvas, but no flying fantasies came to him now to ease him to sleep, and it was a long time after Charlie's snores filled the tent that Harry finally dozed off.

In the girl's tent, Hermione, Krystal and Ginny sat together in Hermione's small bedroom.  
>"What could this mean?" Krystal asked quietly to the other two. "You-Know-Who's back?"<p>

"No," said Ginny. "He can't be coming back, He's meant to be out there somewhere in a feeble form, slowly dying!"

"But anything's possible!" Hermione interjected. "He could be rising to power. The Dark Mark hasn't been seen since before Harry was born, this means he's after Harry again!"

"Isn't You-Know-Who always after Harry?" Krystal waved her hand impatiently at Hermione. "I think it's something more - he's got something up his sleeve. I don't think the Death Eaters would just attack out of nowhere for no reason, they've got to be saying something."

All three girls shivered at the thought.

"We can't be sure of anything." Ginny said glumly.

And with that thought, the girls finally drifted off.

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><p><strong>Sorry it's short! Next chapter: (hopefully) Hogwarts!<br>And please review :'(**


	8. The Journey to Hogwarts

**Hi all! Hope you readers had a good weekend.**  
><strong>This chapter is a lot more original than the last few, yay!<strong>  
><strong>AND THEY'RE FINALLY OFF TO HOGWARTS YES.<strong>  
><strong>It's short, but it cuts to the chase xD<strong>  
><strong>Happy reading!<strong>

* * *

><p>There was a definite gloom in the air as the Weasleys, Hermione, Harry and Krystal boarded the Hogwart's Express on the first of September.<p>

Bill and Charlie were acting suspicious with their goodbyes, as it seemed they knew something that the others didn't.

"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think." Charlie said, smiling as he shook hands with his brothers.

"Why?" asked Fred keenly.

"Oh, you'll soon know why. I suspect you'll know by the feast tonight." Charlie added. "Just don't tell friend I told you, apparently it's 'classified information.'"

"What's classified information?" Krystal interjected.  
>Bill laughed at them all staring at Charlie keenly.<p>

"You're all going to have an interesting year." Bill said. "I might get some time off of work to come and watch a bit of it."

"A bit of what?" Ron asked.  
>The train's whistle blew, and Mrs Weasley pushed them all onto the train.<br>"Thanks for letting us stay, Mrs Weasley." Hermione said as she climbed aboard, waving to her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything!" Harry added.

"Oh, don't worry, it was my pleasure." Mrs Weasley said. "I'd invite you all for christmas but I'll suspect you'll want to stay at Hogwarts…"

"What do you three know that we don't?" George said.

The train then began to move.

"TELL US WHAT'S HAPPENING!" The twins yelled in unison at their mother.

But Mrs Weasley only smiled and waved at the departing train.

"Damn it!" George said, hitting the window. "She never tells us anything!"

"Let's find a compartment, shall we?" Krystal asked to Hermione, Harry and Ron.

The four moved down the train corridor as Fred and George headed off to sit with Lee Jordan.  
>Thick rain was now starting to splatter the windows, making heavy impact on the glass.<p>

Ron put his cage down for Pigwidgeon, who started hooting loudly.

"Shut up!" Ron screeched at the owl, throwing his dress robes over the cage.

"I wonder what Mrs Weasley was on about," Harry started. "What do you reckon-?"

"Shh!" Krystal hissed, putting a finger to her lips, and pointing to the compartment next to theirs.

"… Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He

knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a

Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the

idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line

than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do…"

Hermione got up, tip-toed to their door and slid it shut to block out Malfoy's voice.

"So, Malfoy wanted to go to Durmstrang, did he?" Krystal said, shaking her head. "Of course, following up in his father's footsteps. Dark Magic and all that…"

"Durmstrang actually has a horrible reputation for Dark Magic," Hermione added. "According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts and encourages their students to use it in battle."

"So it's basically a school for Death Eaters?" Ron said. "Would have suited Malfoy perfectly, then…"

"Now you really need to be careful when you're talking about someone, Weasley."

Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle, his enormous,thuggish cronies, both of whom appeared to have grown at least a foot during the summer.

Evidently they had overheard the conversation through the compartment walls.

"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," said Harry coolly.

"Weasley… what is that?" said Malfoy, pointing at Pigwidgeon's cage. A sleeve of Ron's dress

robes was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the moldy lace cuff very

obvious.

Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled.

"Look at this!" said Malfoy in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle,

"Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean - they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety…

"Eat dung, Malfoy!" said Ron, the same color as the dress robes as he snatched them back out of Malfoy's grip. Malfoy howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly.

"Get lost you thugs!" Krystal stood up in front of them, almost nose-to-nose with Draco.

"So, going to enter, half-breed? I guess you could use some money, after all, I heard from all the Slytherins you live on the streets during summer. Is that true?"

"What do you mean, 'going to enter'?" Krystal asked, puzzled.

"Are you going to enter?" Malfoy repeated. "I suppose Potter will," Malfoy pointed at Harry. "famous scar-head never misses a chance to show off!"

"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," said Hermione testily, over the top of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.

A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face

"Don't tell me you don't know?" he said delightedly. "You've got a father and brother at the

Ministry and you don't even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago… heard it

from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry… Maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley… yes… they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him…"

Laughing once more, Malfoy beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared.

Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind them that the glass shattered.

"Ron!" said Hermione reproachfully, and she pulled out her wand, muttered "Reparo!" and the

glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door.

Krystal was red in the face after Malfoy's interruption. "I bet his father makes up all these stupid stories and pass them all on to the students! I DON'T live on the streets."

"Yeah!" Ron said loudly. "That Malfoy thinks he's better than everyone else. One day I'll show him…" he said as he picked up a cauldron cake and squished into a pulp.

The Train finally pulled into a stop at Hogsmeade station.

"Well, let's go." Hermione said, as she picked up her left-over wrappers of sweets from the food trolley.

The four of them hopped off the train, and headed towards the horseless carriages.

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><p><strong>Thank you! Please review!<strong>


	9. The Triwizard Tournament

Hey guys! New chapter ^_^ Hope you enjoy eeett. 

* * *

><p>Chapter 9 - The Triwizard Tournament <p>

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><p>Through the pouring rain, the four Gryffindors, along with the rest of the school, slid and slipped on the marble staircase through to the entrance hall and into the Great Hall for the welcoming feast.<p>

As usual, the Great Hall looked magnificent. Hundreds of golden plates and goblets gleamed and glowed from the light of hundreds of candles.

The four long House tables were packed with loud and cheerful students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here than it was outside in the storm.

Harry, Ron, Krystal and Hermione walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Pearly white and semitransparent, Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking extra festive, and insuring that his head didn't wobble too much on his partially severed neck.

Harry looked ahead and waited for the sorting to begin. Due to the last couple of years, he had been unable to attend a sorting since his own.

"Urgh, boring." Yawned Krystal. "I'm starving."

"Tell me about it." Said Ron as he rolled his eyes. "I just want to eat."

Harry looked up at the staff table. There seemed to be rather more empty seats there than usual.

Hagrid, of course, was still fighting his way across the lake with the first years; Professor

McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor, but there was

another empty chair too, and Harry couldn't think who else was missing.

"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Hermione, who was also

looking up at the teachers.

"I dunno, maybe they couldn't get anyone?" Krystal said thoughtfully.

They scanned the table and tried to spot a new face.

"Maybe they're going to give the job to Snape?" Harry said quietly.

"Well I bloody hope not." Ron said. "I can't stand him in potions as it is." and he went back to moaning about his rumbling stomach.

Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song:

* * *

><p><em><em>

_A thousand years or more ago,_

_When I was newly sewn,_

_There lived four wizards of renown,_

_Whose names are still well known:_

_Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,_

_Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,_

_Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,_

_Shrewd Slytherin, from fin._

_They shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_

_They hatched a daring plan_

_To educate young sorcerers_

_Thus Hogwarts School began._

_Now each of these four founders_

_Formed their own house, for each_

_Did value different virtues_

_In the ones they had to teach._

_By Gryffindor, the bravest were_

_Prized far beyond the rest;_

_For Ravenclaw, the cleverest_

_Would always be the best;_

_For Hufflepuff, hard workers were_

_Most worthy of admission;_

_And power-hungry Slytherin_

_Loved those of great ambition._

_While still alive they did divide_

_Their favorites from the throng,_

_Yet how to pick the worthy ones_

_When they were dead and gone?_

_'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,_

_He whipped me off his head_

_The founders put some brains in me_

_So I could choose instead!_

_Now slip me snug about your ears,_

_I've never yet been wrong,_

_I'll have a look inside your mind_

_And tell where you belong!_

* * *

><p>"That's not the song it sang when it sorted me?" Harry said, puzzled, clapping along with the rest of the school.<p>

"It sings a different one every year." Ron said to Harry. "Pretty boring life, I bet it spends every year making up a new one."

"Oh, haha…" Hermione chuckled.

And so the sorting began.

It was a long, tiring process to watch.

"Damn it, I could eat a Hippogriff." Krystal moaned and put her head on the table, in mock tantrum.

The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one

by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L's.

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, massaging his stomach.

"Now, Ron, the Sorting's much more important than food," said Nearly Headless Nick as

"Madley, Laura!" became a Hufflepuff.

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor

McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away. "About time," said Ron,

seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.

Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms

opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall.

"Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" said Harry and Ron loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.

Nearly Headless Nick watched mournfully as everyone in the hall loaded their own plates.

"You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," said Nearly Headless Nick as he hovered next to Krystal. "There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."

"Why? Wha' 'appened?" said Krystal, through a sizable chunk of chicken.

"Peeves, of course," said Nearly Headless Nick, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. " He wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in pea and carrot soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits—"

*SPLASH*

Hermione had knocked over her golden goblet, and spilled it over Krystal who was sitting next to her, but Hermione paid no attention to the mess she made.

"HERMIONE!" Krystal moaned. "Look at my robes-!"

"-There are house-elves here?" she yelled, staring, horror-struck, at Nearly Headless Nick. "Here at Hogwarts?"

"Certainly," said Nearly Headless Nick, looking surprised at her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."

"But that's impossible! I've never seen one!" Hermione gasped.

"Well, house-elves hardly ever leave the kitchens." Krystal interjected, magically cleaning her robes. "That's the mark of a good servant, you're not meant to know they're there!"

"But that's outrageous! This is slave labor!" And she laid down her knife and fork and refused to eat another bite.

Hermione huffed all through the rest of dinner.

"Oh, come on Hermione." Krystal said, giving her friend a playful shove. "House-elves aren't going to get any pay or sick leave if you starve yourself!"

Hermione glared at the blonde next to her. Krystal raised her eyebrows, sighed, and gave up.

The food off the plates had disappeared after about forty five minutes.

Dumbledore then stood up and began his announcements.

"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at them all. "Now that we are all fed and watered,"

("Hmph!" said Hermione) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few

notices.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the

castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and EverBashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I

believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind

you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place

this year."

"What?" Harry gasped. He looked around at Fred and George who sat a few seats down from him and Ron, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at

Hogwarts -"

The door then swung open and crashed against the wall, with a deafening *BANG*, making more than half of the students in the hall jump out of their seats in shock.

A man was standing in the doorway. But it wasn't like any man Harry, Ron, Hermione...or anyone had seen before.

"Who...is that?" Krystal gasped, clutching her heart in shock of the sound.

"I have no idea." Hermione said, puzzled. "I guess he's a new Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher?"

"Blimey, I know who that is!" Ron said, craning his neck to get a better look at the stranger. "It's Mad-Eye Moody!"

Moody reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words Harry couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone.

Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

Moody sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of

sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small

knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly

into the silence. "Professor Moody."

"What happened to his face?" Krystal said, cringing slightly. "It looks like someone tried to take a bite out of him."

"And succeeded." Harry added, nodding as he noticed the false, magical eye the man was wearing.

Dumbledore then cleared his throat and waved for silence.

"Now, if I may continue?" He smiled. "It is my great pleasure to announce that the Triwizard Tournament will take place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial

judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the

prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing

himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, Harry could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

"I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our

impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they

flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time

submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

And finally, he added. "Now, off to bed. Pip pip!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

"They can't do that!" said George Weasley, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the

door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we

have a shot?"

"They're not stopping me entering," said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. "The

champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand

Galleons prize money!"

"Yeah," said Ron, a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons…"

"Come on," said Hermione, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."

And the four Gryffindors headed off to their dormitory. 

* * *

><p><strong>Hmm, I know. T'was a tad rushed, but atleast the story it cutting to the chase now :P<strong>


	10. The Bouncing Ferret

**Chapter 10**

* * *

><p>The ceiling of the Great Hall was still gloomy following the previous night's rainstorm, with clouds of steely grey hovering over them as the Gryffindor's made their way over to the Gryffindor table and to receive their new timetable from Professor McGonagall. As Harry, Ron, Krystal and Hermione sat down they overheard Fred and George with their friend, Lee Jordan, discussing ways to get into the Triwizard Tournament.<p>

Krystal picked up the piece of parchment laid in front of her by McGonagall and began to examine hers, and compared it to Hermione's.

"Hmm, today's not bad for me. I'm outside all morning. Herbology with Hufflepuff...and Care of Magical Creatures with….oh f-" (Krystal then said a word which made Hermione scowl) "we're still with Slytherins!" she howled and threw her timetable down on the table again.

"I have double Divination with Ron this afternoon." Harry groaned.

"Haha! Too bad for you, I have extra Charms." Krystal said. "I've been getting straight "O's" in all my Charms classes and practice essay's for the past two years, now I'm taking extra Charms, so we'll have some classes with Flitwick together," she explained quickly.

"Sounds great!" Hermione said airly, as she buttered herself some toast. "You two should have given up Divination and filled it with extra potions classes, your grades in that class are awfully low…"

"You're eating again, I notice." Krystal said, pointing to Hermione's butter-soaked toast.

"Yes, well, I guess there are better ways to freeing house-elves than starving myself." Hermione shrugged.

"Yeah, and you were hungry!" Ron grinned.

There was a sudden rustling above them, as hundreds of owls came flooding in through the windows, delivering parcels to all the students.

Neville Longbottom got his usual parcel from home, he received a pair of socks, his dragon-hide gloves and a new remembrall.

Hermione and Ron both got letters from their parents, wishing them a good term.

Harry scowled over to Draco Malfoy's table, where he received a package from home containing hundreds of sweets and trinkets.

Harry and Krystal glanced over to each other for a second, and then turned away. Krystal knew Harry was holding the same, empty feeling in their stomachs, as nearly everyone in the hall apart from the two of them had received something from a loving family.

Was it jealousy? Krystal thought to herself.

Harry returned to eating his porridge and ignored the anxiety and jealousy. Had Sirius gotten his letter yet? Had something happened to him?

Harry's anxiety had lasted all through breakfast and down to the greenhouses for Herbology. He immediately snapped out of it when Professor Sprout made them ooze pus from these strange looking plants.

"Wait, we have to do WHAT?" said Seamus Finnigan, sounding revolted.

"Pus, Finnigan, pus," said Professor Sprout, repeating the word, "and it's extremely valuable, so don't waste it. You will collect the pus, I say, in these bottles. Wear your dragon-hide gloves; it can do funny things to the skin when undiluted, bubotuber pus."

Squeezing the bubotubers was disgusting, but oddly satisfying.

As each swelling was popped, a large amount of thick yellowish-green liquid burst forth, which smelled strongly of petrol. They caught it in the bottles as Professor Sprout had indicated, and by the end of the lesson had collected several pints.

"This'll keep Madam Pomfrey happy," said Professor Sprout, stoppering the last bottle with a cork. "An excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne, bubotuber pus. Should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples."

"Like poor Eloise Midgen," said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off."

"Silly girl," said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. "But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end."

The bell sounded that signalled the end of class. The Gryffindors made their way down to Care of Magical Creatures, still stinking of the weird petrol-like smell.

Hagrid was standing outside his hut, one hand on the collar of his enormous black boarhound,Fang. There were several open wooden crates on the ground at his feet, and Fang was whimpering and straining at his collar, apparently keen to investigate the contents more closely.

As they drew nearer, an odd rattling noise reached their ears, punctuated by what sounded like minor explosions.

"Mornin'!" Hagrid said, grinning at Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Be'er wait fer the Slytherins, they won' want ter miss this - Blast-Ended Skrewts!"

"Come again?" said Ron.

Hagrid pointed down into the crates.

"Eurgh!" squealed Lavender Brown, jumping backward.

"Eurgh" just about summed up the Blast-Ended Skrewts in Harry's opinion. They looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads.

There were about a hundred of them in each crate, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They were giving off a very powerful smell of rotting fish.

Every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small _phut_, it would be propelled forward several inches.

"I thought we migh' like ter raise them," Hagrid said as the Slytherins finally approached. "We could make a project outta it!"

"And why would we want to do that?" Said Draco Malfoy loudly. "They don't even look like they have any magical properties, or even good enough to keep as a bleeding pet!"

"Just because they're not very pretty, it doesn't mean they're not useful," Hermione snapped. "Dragon blood's amazingly magical, but you wouldn't want a dragon for a pet, would you?"

The Quartet smiled at Hagrid, who beamed back at them.

"I dunno where I'd be without you four." He said, proudly.

"Okay, class." Hagrid continued. "You might wanna remove your outer robes, they're flammable to the ones that spit fire. And use your dragon Hide gloves."

Krystal, Harry and Hermione looked nervously at each other and they rolled up the sleeves of their school shirts.

The lesson was just short of a nightmare. The Skrewts stings would explode, sting or burn a student every five minutes. Krystal had to be rushed up to the Hospital wing after a severe burn all up her arms.

Hagrid called off the lesson early as nearly all the students had sustained injuries.

The three Gryffindors headed off for lunch.

They sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to lamb chops and potatoes.

Hermione began to eat so fast that Harry and Ron stared at her.

"Er - is this the new stand on elf rights?" said Ron. "You're going to make yourself puke instead?"

"No," said Hermione, with as much dignity as she could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts. "I just want to get to the library."

"What?" said Ron in disbelief. "Hermione - it's the first day back! We haven't even got homework yet!"

Hermione shrugged and continued to shovel down her food as though she had not eaten for days.

"Come on," Harry said to Ron and Hermione after they had finished. "We better go see Krystal."

"No, you can't!" Hermione snapped. "I've got Arithmancy and you two have Divination!"

Harry signed.

"Let's just skip it!" Ron said airly. "Krystal gets to miss her afternoon classes and we don't! How is that fair?"

"If you skip class, I'll tell Professor McGonagall." Hermione said shrilly. "Krystal has an excuse."

Then she leapt to her feet, said, "See you at dinner!" and departed at high speed.

"You shouldn't have mentioned skipping lessons in front of Hermione." Harry said to Ron quietly as they watched her rush off to her class.

When the bell rang to signal the start of afternoon lessons, Harry and Ron set off for North Tower where, at the top of a tightly spiraling staircase, a silver stepladder led to a circular trapdoor in the ceiling, and the room where Professor Trelawney lived.

The familiar sweet perfume spreading from the fire met their nostrils as they emerged at the top of the stepladder.

As ever, the curtains were all closed; the circular room was bathed in a dim reddish light cast by the many lamps, which were all draped with scarves and shawls. Harry and Ron walked through the mass of occupied chintz chairs and poufs that cluttered the room, and sat down at the same small circular table.

"Good day," said the misty voice of Professor Trelawney right behind Harry, making him jump.

"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," she said. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle…"

An hour and a half later, with their hands filled with sheets of parchments and lots of homework, Trelawney excused them.

"Miserable old bat," said Ron bitterly as they joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. "That'll take all weekend, that will…"

"Lots of homework?" said Hermione brightly, catching up with them. "Professor Vector didn't give us any at all!"

"Well, bully for Professor Vector," said Ron moodily.

They reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. Harry spotted Krystal near the front of the line. Bandages covering her arms, but looking happy nonetheless and let them cut through the line in front of her.

"Arms feeling better?" Harry asked her.

"Yeah, they'll recover fully by tomorrow." Krystal grinned, and gave Hermione a quick hug.

They had just joined the front, when a loud voice rang out behind them.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

Harry, Ron, Krystal and Hermione turned. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.

"What?" said Ron shortly.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear. "Listen to this!"

_FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC_

_It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, __Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World __Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was __plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of __Muggle Artifacts Office."_

Malfoy looked up.

"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed.

Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish

and read on:

_Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene._

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Krystal, as she pulled at Ron's arm. "C'mon, Ron…"

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Krystal?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

"You know _your_ mother, Malfoy?" said Krystal - both Harry and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy - "that expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, you sickening half-breed!"

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then!" Krystal screamed, turning away to face her friends.

Krystal felt some white-hot graze the side of her face. Knowing immediately Malfoy had just missed her with a curse, she turned around and plunged her hands in her robes for her wand when a BANG had erupted in the middle of the Great Hall.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

There was a terrified silence in the hall.

Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Krystal — at least, his normal eye was looking at her; the other one was pointing into the back of his head.

"Did he get you?" He growled to her.

"No." Krystal said, breathing heavily. "Missed me."

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted at her.

"Leave...what?!" Krystal said, bewildered.

"Not you, him!" He said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just tried to take the ferret.

Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again - it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain. "Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…"

Krystal and the other Gryffindors had gathered around and watched in amusement, laughing as Moody bounced Malfoy around the Great Hall.

"Professor Moody!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed as she approached the racket. "What...are you doing?"

"Teaching." Moody said simply, still bouncing the ferret.

"Moody...IS THAT A STUDENT?!" McGonagall screamed.

"Yep."

"NO!" And with a wave of the Professor's wand, Malfoy had resumed his normal form again.

"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall wealdy.

"Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, scratching his chin unconcernedly, "but I thought a good sharp shock -"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable.

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy… You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son… you tell him that from me… Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully.

"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape…Come on, you…"

And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons.

Fred and George had just approached the four Gryffindors.

"Moody!" Fred said. "How cool is he?"

"Beyond cool," said George.

"Supercool," said the twins' best friend, Lee Jordan, beside George. "We had him this afternoon," he told Harry and Ron.

"What was it like?" said Harry eagerly.

Fred, George, and Lee exchanged looks full of meaning.

"Never had a lesson like it," said Fred.

"He knows, man," said Lee.

"Knows what?" said Ron, leaning forward.

"Knows what it's like to be out there doing it," said George impressively.

"Doing what?" said Harry.

"Fighting the Dark Arts," said Fred.

"He's seen it all," said George.

"Mazing," said Lee.

Ron dived into his bag for his schedule.

"We haven't got him till Thursday!" he said in a disappointed voice.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review, my special ghosts!<strong>


	11. A Lesson With Moody

**Chapter 11**

* * *

><p>The four Gryffindors had been eagerly awaiting Thursday - their first lesson with Professor Moody.<p>

The two days had slid by smoothly, unless you counted Neville melting his fourth cauldron in potions that week. Professor Snape gave the poor boy detention, leaving Neville close to tears.

Krystal immediately went to help Neville clean up the mess on his desk, while Harry muttered to the other two "You know why Snape's in such a foul mood, don't you?"

"Yeah," Ron hissed back. "Moody."

It was a well known fact around Hogwarts that Snape was desperate for the Dark Arts Job here, and had now failed to get it again.

Snape was giving Harry the impression that Snape was avoiding Moody's eye, whether magical or normal.

Krystal returned to her chair with them and caught up on their conversation. "Actually, I reckon Snape's a bit scared of him," she said thoughtfully. "Moody, but I wouldn't be surprised."

"Imagine if Moody turned Snape into a horned toad!" Ron said gleefully to her. "Had him bouncing all over the dungeon,"

The four had erupted into silent fits of laughter.

The Gryffindor fourth years were looking forward to Moody's first lesson so much that they

arrived early on Thursday lunchtime and queued up outside his classroom before the bell had

even rung. The only person missing was Hermione, who turned up just in time for the lesson.

"Been in the -"

"Library." Harry finished her sentence for her. "C'mon, quick, or we won't get decent seats."

The four had hurried into the classroom and took the two large desks at the front of the classroom.

Ron sat with Hermione, while Harry sat with Krystal. The class then took out their books The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, and waited, unusually quiet. Soon they heard Moody's distinctive clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking as strange and frightening as ever. They could just see his clawed, wooden foot protruding from underneath his robes.

"Put those away." He suddenly snapped at them all, his magical eye whizzing around his socket. "Those books!"

The class then returned their books into their bags, Ron looking particularly excited.  
>Moody then took out a register, and began to call out names. Every time a student answered his magical eye fixed itself upon them.<p>

"Right then." Moody said calmly. "Now, I had a letter from your previous Defence teacher,Professor Lupin, about what you dealt with last year. You've tackled Hinkypunks, Grindylows and Rep Caps, so on and so forth, yes?"

There was a murmur of "yes, professor" amongst the students.

"Oh, but you're all behind, way behind. On to dealing with curses. I've only got one year to teach you."

"What, you aren't staying?" Ron blurted out.  
>Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled - the first time Harry had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile. Ron looked deeply relieved.<p>

"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight

corner a few days ago… Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore…

One year, and then back to my quiet retirement."

He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So… do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Several people put their hands up, Harry was surprised to see Krystal volunteer, as she rarely participated in classroom conversation.

"You." Moody said, pointing at Krystal. "What can you tell me?"

"Um," Krystal said thoughtfully, surprised to be chosen. "I remember reading about one. I think it was called the...Imperius curse, or something…?"

"Correct," Moody growled at her, giving her a small smile. "Take five points for Gryffindor."

Moody then tapped his wand on the chalkboard and the words "The Imperious Curse" appeared.  
>Moody then took out a large jar from his desk, where three large spiders were scuttling around.<br>Ron recoiled at pushed his chair slightly back. Ron hated spiders.

Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the

palm of his hand so that they could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered,

"Imperio!"

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and

forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a backflip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

Everyone was laughing - everyone except Moody.

"Think it's funny, do you?" he growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"Total control," said Moody quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over.

"I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…"

Ron gave an involuntary shudder.

Moody made the spider return to it's original state, and put it back into the jar.

"Years back, this curse gave the ministry a lot of trouble. Back in the days when You-Know-Who had been all powerful. The Ministry had to try and sort out who was being imperiused, and who was acting of their own free will." Moody said.

He went on.  
>"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of<p>

character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT

VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped.

"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

Hermione's hand flew into the air again and so, to Harry's slight surprise, did Neville's. The

only class in which Neville usually volunteered information was Herbology which was easily his best subject. Neville looked surprised at his own daring.

"Yes?" said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.

"There's one - the Cruciatus Curse," said Neville in a small but distinct voice.

Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.

"Your name's Longbottom?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register

again.

Neville nodded, shakily.

"Ahh...yes, The Cruciatus curse. The spider needs to be bigger for you to get the idea." Moody picked up another spider. "Engorgio!" he hissed, and the spider swelled.

"Crucio!" Moody hissed again.

At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly,

rocking from side to side. No sound came from it, but Harry was sure that if it could have given

voice, it would have been screaming. Moody did not remove his wand, and the spider started to shudder and jerk more violently - "Stop it!" Hermione said shrilly.

Harry looked to Hermione and noticed, she wasn't looking at the spider, but at Neville.

Harry saw that Neville's hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his

knuckles white, his eyes wide and horrified. Moody raised his wand. The spider's legs relaxed,

but it continued to twitch.

"Pain." Moody said quietly. "You don't need knives or thumbscrews to torture someone when you can correctly perform the Cruciatus Curse. That was a very popular curse, back in the day."

"Right… anyone know any others?"

Harry looked around. From the looks on everyone's faces, he guessed they were all wondering what was going to happen to the last spider. Hermione's hand shook slightly as, for the third time, she raised it into the air.

"Yes?" said Moody, looking at her.

"Avada Kedavra," Hermione whispered.

Several people looked uneasily around at her, including Ron.

"Ah...right." Moody said, and he took out the last spider.

He pointed his wand at it, and roared "Avada Kedavra!"

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible

something was soaring through the air - instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back,

unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him.

Moody swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor.

"Not nice," he said calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it.

Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."

Harry could suddenly feel everyone's eyes on him, and he looked down at the desk he was sitting at.

So that was how his parents had died… exactly like that spider. Had they been unblemished and unmarked too?  
>Had they simply seen the flash of green light and heard the rush of speeding<p>

death, before life was wiped from their bodies?

Krystal suddenly grabbed her bag and marched out of the room, and so did Neville and three other Gryffindors.  
>Apparently the rest of the class had been too disturbed to handle anymore of them. Harry didn't blame them, he was feeling extremely uneasy himself.<p>

About thirty seconds later, the bell rang, to signal the end of class.

Moody dismissed the rest of the class, and there was a bustling for the few that remained.

"Did you see it twitch?"

"- and when he killed it – just like that!"

They were talking about the lesson, Harry thought, as though it had been some sort of

spectacular show, but he hadn't found it very entertaining - and nor, it seemed, had Hermione, Krystal or Neville.

Harry found Krystal, she looked like she was catching her breath at a nearby window in the corridor.

"Hey, are you okay?" Harry asked her, grabbing her shoulder.

Krystal shrugged his hand off and said "I never thought I would have to witness those curses."

Harry sighed. "If we have Moody for the entire year, we're going to have to put up with a lot worse than that."

Krystal nodded in understanding.

Hermione then suddenly rushed off, and the rest followed.

"Hurry up," she said tensely to them.

"Not the ruddy library again?" said Ron.

"No," said Hermione curtly, pointing up a side passage. "Neville." Neville was standing alone,

halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with the same horrified, wide-eyed look he had worn when Moody had demonstrated the Cruciatus Curse.

"Neville?" Hermione asked.

Neville did not move or speak.

"Neville, what -?"

But an odd clunking noise sounded behind them, and they turned to see Professor Moody

limping toward them. All four of them fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he

spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than they had yet heard.

"It's all right, sonny," he said to Neville. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on… we

can have a cup of tea…"

Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor

spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry, whose arm was occupied by Krystal clinging onto it nervously.

"You alright?" Moody growled at Krystal.

"I'll be fine." Krystal said quietly.

Moody them put his hand on her shoulder gently. "I know it's tough, but you've got to learn."

Moody then turned back to Neville and lead him back to his office.

"Some lesson, though, eh?" said Ron to Harry as they set off for the Great Hall. "Fred and

George were right, weren't they? He really knows his stuff, Moody, doesn't he? When he did

Avada Kedavra, the way that spider just died, just snuffed it right -"

But Ron heeded to silence when he saw Krystal give him a glare, then shook her head towards Harry.

The four headed into the Great Hall for dinner, not speaking a word of Moody's lesson.


	12. Padfoot's Letter

**Chapter 12**

* * *

><p>Harry and the other Gryffindors worked tirelessly that evening on their homework.<br>Krystal was slaving away for two hours on a Charms essay, about a history of Summoning charms.

Neville was seated in front of the fireplace reading a book.

"He looks better." Ron pointed quietly over to Neville, who was absorbed in his book.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Moody lent him this book about Mediterranean plants or something…"

"That's actually a really tactful way of cheering someone up!" Krystal smiled.

Hermione came walking into the common room an hour later, the three other Gryffindors finally put down their quills as the Common Room door opened.

"I've just finished!" Hermione said gleefully.

"So have we!" Ron said.

Hermione looked over at Harry and Ron's predictions for the month.

"Not having a good few weeks, are you?" Hermione said. "And you seem to be drowning twice."

"Oh really?" Ron asked, looking back at his chart. "I better change that to being trampled by an enraged Hippogriff."

"Isn't obvious that you've just made those up?" Hermione tutted, taking a seat next to Krystal.

"How dare you!" said Ron, in mock outrage. "We've been working like house-elves here!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"It's just an expression," said Ron hastily.

Harry laid down his quill too, having just finished predicting his own death by decapitation.

"What's in the box?" he asked, pointing at it.

"Funny you should ask," said Hermione, with a nasty look at Ron. She took off the lid and

showed them the contents. Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: _S.P.E.W._

"Spew?" said Harry, picking up a badge and looking at it. "What's this about?"

"Not spew," said Hermione impatiently. "It's_ S-P-E-W._ Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Oh god, Hermione!" Krystal moaned. "Not more House-elf crap!"

"I've never heard of it." Ron said, putting a badge back in the box.

"Well, of course you haven't." Hermione said briskly. "I've only just started it."

"How many members do you have?" Harry asked.

"Well, if you three join, four." Hermione said, beaming at them.

"And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying 'spew,' do you?" said Ron.

"S-P-E-W!" said Hermione hotly. "I was going to put Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status - but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto."

She brandished the sheet of parchment at them.

"I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."

"Hermione - open your ears," said Krystal loudly. "They. Like. It. They _like_ being enslaved!"

"Our short-term aims," said Hermione, speaking even more loudly than her, and acting as

though she hadn't heard a word, "are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions.

Our long-term aims include changing the law about nonw and use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented."

"I'm out!" Krystal said standing up. "I can't believe you want to FORCE freedom on them, they won't like it!"

"That's because they're brainwashed!" Hermione said even louder.

The argument was interrupted by a soft tapping on the window.

Hedwig.

"Harry!" Krystal said. "Hedwig must have a letter from Sirius!"

"About time!" Harry bolted up and ran to let her in.

Harry took the letter that was bound to Hedwig's leg and hastily untied it and sat down to read, whereupon Hedwig fluttered onto his knee, hooting softly.

"What does it say?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

The letter was very short, and looked as though it had been scrawled in a great hurry. Harry read it aloud:

Harry -

I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a series of strange

rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to Dumbledore - they're saying

he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's reading the signs, even if no one else is.

I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron, Krystal and Hermione. Keep your eyes open, Harry.

Sirius

"Wait, he's flying north?" Krystal whispered. "He's coming back?"

For Harry had just hit himself in the forehead with his fist, jolting Hedwig out of his lap.

"I shouldn't've told him!" Harry said furiously.

"What are you on about?" said Ron in surprise.

Hedwig gave him an extremely offended look and took off for the open window, cuffing him around the head with her outstretched wing as she went.

"Harry," Hermione began, in a pacifying sort of voice.

"I'm going to bed," said Harry shortly. "See you in the morning."

Upstairs in the dormitory he pulled on his pajamas and got into his four-poster, but he didn't feel remotely tired.

If Sirius came back and got caught, it would be his, Harry's, fault. Why hadn't he kept his mouth shut? A few seconds' pain and he'd had to blab… If he'd just had the sense to keep it to himself.

He heard Ron come up into the dormitory a short while later, but did not speak to him. For a long time, Harry lay staring up at the dark canopy of his bed. The dormitory was completely silent, and, had he been less preoccupied, Harry would have realized that the absence of Neville's usual snores meant that he was not the only one lying awake.

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><p><strong>Apologies for the shortness! There will be a longer chapter next time :)<strong>


	13. The Imperius Curse

**Hey guys, I'm back.**  
><strong>Enjoy. =]<strong> 

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong> 

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><p>Harry sighed as he handed a note to Hedwig in the owlery the next morning. He had woken up early and decided to send a letter to Sirius to sway his decision on coming back.<br>"Just find him, alright?" Harry said to Hedwig. "Before the Dementors do."  
>Harry had written a fairly quick note in attempt to get to Sirius as soon as possible.<p>

_Sirius [He wrote] -_

_I reckon I just imagined my scar hurting, I was half asleep when I wrote you last. Please don't worry about me, I feel perfectly normal._  
><em>Harry.<em> 

* * *

><p>"That was a lie, Harry!" Hermione snapped at him over breakfast. "You didn't imagine your scar hurting, and you know it."<p>

"So what?" Harry said back at her. "He's not going back to Azkaban because of me."

"Drop it." Ron said sharply to Hermione as she opened her mouth to argue again.

"I hope Sirius actually believes you." Krystal sniffed. "He might know you're lying."

"Well, we'll see what happens, then." Harry said, pulling a copy of the Daily Prophet in front of him.

Harry did his best to not worry about his godfather for the next few weeks. Every time he let his mind wander, he would always see an image of Sirius surrounded by Dementors in some dark alleyway in the middle of London.

The only time when he completely forgot about Sirius was when Moody announced he was putting their class under the Imperius Curse, to see how they would handle the effects.

"But...that's illegal professor!" Hermione said to him.

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," said Moody, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way -when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave. Harry and Ron grinned at each other. Everyone knew Hermione would rather eat bubotuber pus than miss such an important lesson.

Moody began to go down the roll to see how each student would react to the curse. Each student performed extraordinary acts that they would not have been able to do in their normal state of mind. Hermione was doing some astonishing gymnastics. And to the classes' immense surprise, Hermione had managed to throw the curse towards the end without realising she was doing it.

"Well done, Granger!" Moody said, giving her a small smile. "Take twenty points for Gryffindor."

"What...happened?" Hermione said blankly.

"You fought the curse off at the end!" Krystal said, thumping her on the back. "Amazing."

"Wow, I did?" Hermione said, pleased with herself.

"Potter," Moody growled. "You next."

The class watched closely, all with bated breath. Moody pointed his wand at Harry and said "Imperio."

He gave Harry a minute to get used to the effects of the curse. Then "Jump onto the desk." Moody ordered.

His knees were bent, obediently ready to spring.

"Now!"

Harry had managed to shake off most of the effects, instead of jumping onto the desk, he ran right into it, causing him to scream out in pain and lose the curse completely.

"Excellent work, Potter!" Moody said delightfully. "Take another twenty points for Gryffindor."

Harry winced and hobbled back to where the class was standing.

"Ouch." Krystal said, grinning. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "I have no idea what happened."

"Alright, Harmony. You're next." Moody said, as he beckoned the girl towards him.

Krystal, with shaking hands, stood in front of the class.

"Imperio." Moody said.

Krystal felt so wonderful...so free. So this was ignorance? So this was pure bliss? Krystal never wanted this feeling to end.

Then…

"Conjure some music and sing for me."

Krystal absent mindedly raised her wand, about to do some magic, when…

"No. I won't."

* * *

><p>Krystal immediately snapped out of the curse.<p>

"I won't do it." She said simply to Moody.

Moody stood, stunned.

"Well…" he finally said, gathering himself. "You managed to throw the curse off entirely, and the quickest out of the class."

Krystal stood stunned at herself.

"I...I."

"You must have a family history of talented witches and wizards, it takes the best to throw off a curse so quickly." Moody stated to her.

"I don't have any family." Krystal said quietly.

The room was silent.

"Take fifty points to Gryffindor."

* * *

><p>Krystal was silent as she walked out of Defence later that day. Moody had mentioned who might be her family. Talented witches and wizards, countering Dark Magic. Who did she know who had a speciality with the Imperius Curse? Or any other dark magic?<br>All she knew is that she wanted to find out, more than ever. 

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><p><strong>Thanks! Please review!<strong>


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